"How on earth do you begin?" asked Molly, looking helplessly around.
"Oh, you put everything out in the passage first of all," said Nell, confidently, "then you tie your head up in a duster or something, because of the dust, you know, and then you begin to sweep and fill the room with dust. Oh, and the big things you cover over with dusting sheets. I'll get all the things we'll want from Sarah. You go and tie up your head."
"Oh, miss!" Sarah was in a state of horror bordering on lunacy. "You young ladies to do my work!"
But Nell got her way in the end.
The Atom helped in a silence that was ecstatic. She pinned up her pig-tail, and tied a clean duster round her head. Molly followed suit, and then the supply being exhausted, Nell twisted a pale blue silk scarf round hers, and they set to work. They brushed and brushed; silence reigned in the Stronghold. Sheila Pat broke it to observe in a rather breathless but deeply content voice, "We're gettin' a fine dust now!"
Denis came in with a rush. "Hulloa! I say, old man," he called over his shoulder, "rather a choking atmosphere!"
Nell's greeting froze on her lips. Her laughing glance met a pair of well-remembered grey eyes looking straight at her over Denis's shoulder. She stood quite still; the hot colour dyed her face red.
"I'll go—really, O'Brien, I'd rather—another time!"
The uncomfortable murmur reached her ear; she forgot all about her unfortunate visit—all about her sense of antagonism. She went swiftly forward, hand outstretched, smiling charmingly.
"Please don't go! Really, we've almost finished. The dust is dying down already."